


Nobody But You

by CubbieGirl1723



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season 1, bed sharing, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: When Logan disappears for a few days, Veronica can’t rest until she finds him. Naturally, she gets more than she bargained for.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 62
Kudos: 153
Collections: LoVe In The Time Of Quarantine





	Nobody But You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, His Beautiful Girl for putting this prompt in the wishing well and MarshmellowBobcat for telling me to write it and then reading random text snippets of it and holding my hand like usual. You’re the best. Thanks, Silvery, for sharing your vast knowledge of the Echolls estate and giving me a virtual “tour.” Many, many thanks to Aurora2020 for your above and beyond beta help!

“You’ve reached Logan with today’s inspirational greeting. ‘It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.’ Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club. Leave a message after the beep.”

Usually his smarmy messages induce an eye roll but this one feels a little too on the nose. Especially since Veronica is worried about him. She presses the phone closer to her ear, juggles her keys and her canvas bag, hitching it higher on her shoulder as she unlocks her apartment. 

“Uh, Logan, it’s Veronica. I know we’re...whatever but you’ve missed, I mean, I heard you missed school and I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

Wincing, she ends the call and drops her purse on the counter. Could that have been more awkward? 

He’s probably fine and now he’s going to have something else to use against her. She should never have called. 

But he’s been absent for the past three days of school and she can still see his silhouette on her porch, asking her to find his mother. Can still feel him sobbing in her arms when they found out, once and for all, Lynn was dead. 

So she left him a stupid voicemail, just checking to make sure he was still breathing. It doesn’t mean anything. 

_ Whatever, Veronica. Keep telling yourself that _ . 

* * *

Logan didn’t call her back that night, not like she checked her phone obsessively, and he wasn’t in journalism class the next day, either. When she called him again after school, he didn’t answer. 

Walking out to her LeBaron, she debates with herself. 

On the one hand…

Based on her subtle inquiries, no one has heard from Logan in the past four days. He’s not returning phone calls. 

But, she tells herself, it’s not her problem. Doesn’t he have people in his life who care about him? Real, actual friends? Like, Duncan or Dick or…

Yeah, it’s a sad state of affairs when Dick looks like the best bet for a nurturing friend. 

Veronica starts her car. Maybe she can just drive by the Echolls estate, see if she spots Logan’s Xterra. 

Why isn’t he answering his phone? They’re not friends, exactly, but after everything with his mom, she thought they were at least friendly. She made sure he got home okay after the ‘80s dance and tore up the check he tried to give her for his case. His mom just died; checking on him is not out of line. 

Or so she tells herself as she pulls up to his house. Veronica knows her gate code still works. She discovered that at Christmas. And she’s not breaking in, just knocking on the door. Biting her lip, she waits for the gate to slide open, then follows the long, palm-lined drive under the ostentatious archway and parks in front of the garage. 

Taking a deep breath, she exits her car and rings the doorbell of the massive front door. And waits. And waits. Twisting her hands together, she paces in front of it, deciding what to do. If she could get a peek in the garage, she could at least see if Logan’s car is here. 

Walking with purpose like she belongs, she hurries to the garages. Of course, the five ornate wooden garage doors are all closed. 

Veronica eyes the keypad by the unobtrusive service entrance door. It feels a lot like breaking and entering, especially if Logan doesn’t want her there, but if her code works… 

She’s not sneaking in to spy on him. She just needs to see him with her own eyes, make sure he’s alive, and then she’ll leave. 

Before she can talk herself out of it, Veronica types in 6277 on the electronic keypad by the door. The light turns green and the lock disengages. 

Pushing the door open, she eases inside and gets her bearings. She’s in the hallway by the garage, which leads to the guest suite. Bypassing that, she heads through the silent house, past the staircase that leads to Logan’s room and into the family room. 

“Logan?” Her voice echoes in the empty space. The couch is rumpled, though, and the coffee table is littered with Kleenex, glass tumblers, and take-out containers. Logan has definitely been here recently and based on the amount of food detritus, he’s alive. From her vantage point by the sofa, she can see a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts sitting on the counter, surrounded by crumbs. His favorite kind. 

“Logan, are you home? Are you okay?” 

Where is everyone? Why hasn’t Logan been at school? Why isn’t he answering her calls? 

Wandering back through the living room, she heads for the stairs. She’s been in the Echolls’ house many times before and certainly knows her way around.  _ But all of those times you were invited, Veronica.  _

“Logan?” She tries again at the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?”

There are four bedrooms upstairs. Logan’s, Trina’s, and two guestrooms. The door to his bedroom is ajar. Screwing up her courage, Veronica pushes it open. 

Clad only in pajama pants, Logan stretches out on his bed, eyes half closed, cradling a battered paperback copy of  _ Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.  _

Relief flows through her, followed closely by anger. Anger at herself for caring, at him for not bothering to answer the damn phone. 

She cocks her hand on her hip. “This is what you’re skipping school for? Really, Logan?” 

His eyes fly to hers and he draws a breath so fast that he starts coughing. And keeps coughing. 

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he draws in great gulps of air, trying to get his breath but the coughing spasm continues. 

_ Shit shit shit. _

Panic runs through Veronica’s veins, first paralyzing, then propelling her into jerky motion. Running into his bathroom, she spots a glass tumbler and fills it with tap water. Bringing it back to Logan, she holds it to his lips as his coughs finally subside. 

“Hey, here you go.” Sinking down onto the bed next to him, she rubs his bare back as he takes a small sip, hands shaking. His skin is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, ridiculously hot under her fingers. 

“Veronica,” he whispers, so quiet she can barely hear him, “what are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re okay.” She takes the glass from him, setting it down on the bedside table. “And you’re obviously not. Why haven’t you talked to anyone? What’s going on?”

“You broke into my house?” His voice is almost nonexistent and he motions for the glass of water again. Putting it into his hands, she doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“I didn’t technically ‘break in.’ And no one at school knew where you were. I needed your help with, uh, a journalism thing,” she invents. 

“You didn’t sneak into the attendance office? Find out that I’m sick?” He gestures at his body and, yeah, he doesn’t look good. His eyes are glassy, his lips bright red, his face pale. 

“They didn’t know where you were, either.”

“Of course not.” Logan flops on his back, staring at the ceiling. “He was supposed to call before he went to L.A.”

“Oh.”

_ Ouch _ . 

“And Trina?” Veronica had thought maybe Trina actually came home because she felt bad for Logan after Lynn died but…

“The house in Malibu with Aaron.” 

“They left you alone when you’re sick?”

But instead of answering, Logan gasps, sitting up and coughing again. He backs away from her off the bed, tripping and falling onto his hands and knees on the floor. 

“Logan! Are you—”

“You can’t be here,” he chokes out. “I can’t believe I forgot. Stupid fever makes me dumb.”

He moans, cradling his head in his hands until she places the glass of water under his nose again. 

After taking a sip, he manages, “Ronnie, this is bad. No one is allowed to be here.”

His eyes are wide and... _ is he afraid?  _

Veronica backs away, putting her hands up in surrender to appear as non-threatening as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Logan. I wanted to check on you. I’ll go, I just—”

“No, you don’t understand.” He stands, wobbling, and falling back onto the bed. “You’re not supposed to be here. And now you can’t leave.”

* * *

“What? What do you mean, I can’t leave?” Veronica leans over Logan, puts her hand on his forehead. “Just how high is that fever?”

“No.” He swats her hand away, whispered voice full of anguish. “This is a big deal, Veronica. You’ve been exposed and—”

“Exposed?” She recoils. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you.” He swallows, obviously a painful undertaking, and sits up for more water. “I have the flu, a really bad strain, apparently.”

“What’s the big deal with the flu?”

“They think Trina brought it home from Australia. No antibodies built up against it or something.” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit, then continues, wincing. “She and my dad don’t have any symptoms but they’re staying in quarantine at the Malibu house, just in case.” 

“But, the flu,” Veronica protests. “It’s not fun but it’s not—”

“I guess it would be really bad if it spread, or so my doctor says.” He eases back down onto his side. “It’s like the Spanish Flu, apparently.”

“Logan Echolls, were you secretly paying attention in history class?” She teases. 

“It’s not a joke. I wasn’t supposed to come into contact with anyone. And now you can’t go home.”

Panic and rebellion flare in her chest. “Oh, no. I’m totally going home. there’s no way—”

“Here.” He hands her a business card from the pile of papers on his nightstand. “Call my doctor and find out.”

Then he sinks into the mattress, eyes sliding closed. 

* * *

Veronica paces in the hallway outside Logan’s bedroom. His doctor confirmed it. He has a rare strain of influenza that could be very serious if the uninoculated Western population is exposed. Dr. Carter had highly advised her not to return to her apartment and expose her dad. 

How in the world is she going to explain this to him?

Maybe she can spin it, or play up that fake journalism project again…

Yeah, right. 

Pasting a fake smile onto her face in case it helps, she dials his number.

“ _ Mars Investigations, Mars speaking.” _

“Hey, Daddy-O!” Trying to infuse some pep in her voice, she practically does a cheer into the phone. 

_ “Darling Daughter, how was your day?” _

“Surprising.” She decides to cut right to it. “Uh, Dad, have you ever seen the movie Outbreak?”

“ _ The Dustin Hoffman one? With the monkey? Is this for a school project? Because you know you should always read the book instead of renting the movie. I learned that the hard way with—” _

“No, not exactly,” she cuts him off, biting her lip. “Although Logan bears a striking resemblance to that monkey.”

“ _ Logan? What are you talking about? _ ”

She sighs. This is not going well. 

“Never mind. Forget the movie. What would you say to having your bachelor pad all to yourself for two weeks? You can have a bitching rager, totally unsupervised.”

“ _ Veronica _ .” Uh-oh. His voice has hit that angry, almost-growling register. “ _ Whatever you’re trying to tell me, just say it.” _

“I accidentally visited Logan Echolls and now I have to be quarantined with him for two weeks. He has an infectious disease.”

Silence. Then her dad laughs. 

“ _ Oh, I get it. You missed April Fool’s a few weeks ago and so you’re punking me. That’s what the kids call it these days, right? And that celebrity you like is gonna jump out and _ —”

“I’m really sorry.” 

He pauses again, as if her words are sinking in. 

“ _ Oh, no. No way. Where are you right now?” _

“At the Echolls’ estate.”

“ _ I’ll be there in fifteen minutes _ .”

“But Dad—”

The dial tone cuts her off.

“Logan,” she rushes into his bedroom, startling him awake. “Will the gate keep my dad out?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes. “Unless my mom gave him a code when he was working on that stalker thing at Christmas.”

“He’s on his way and we have to keep him out, keep him safe. He can’t get stuck here in quarantine, he has to keep working.” Her voice rises in distress and Logan sits up, reaching out for her. 

“Okay, calm down. We can fix this.”

Nodding, Veronica takes a deep breath. 

“We just have to override the gate code. Easy.” Logan explains, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. But he must have moved too fast because he stumbles.

“Hey, cowboy.” Rushing to his side, Veronica slings his arm over her shoulders, stabilizing him as he sags against her. “Lemme help you there.”

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “Gate controls are near the garage.”

“No problem. Feverish Logan is not all that different from Drunk Logan,” she pats his side, “and if you remember, I know him well.”

“At least I have pants on.” 

This close to her, his body heat is nearly overwhelming. She still can’t believe his family left him alone when he was sick. Although from what she knows of Aaron and Trina, she shouldn’t be surprised their first thoughts were for themselves. Her dad would never do that. 

Which just reinforces how difficult this conversation is going to be. 

She helps Logan down the stairs, stopping on the landing for a breather. Slowly, they make their way through the hall to the garage. Slumping against the wall, Logan punches in a series of numbers on the gate keypad while Veronica mostly resists the urge to peek. He’s blocking her view with his body, anyway. 

“Okay.” Logan slides down the wall to sit on the floor, panting. Sweat beads his forehead. “Extra codes are deactivated.”

Bending down, she assesses him, hand on his brow. It doesn’t take a medical degree to deduce he has a fever. Better get him back upstairs as soon as possible. After she has the world’s worst conversation with her dad, though.

“I’m gonna meet my dad at the gate. I won’t get too close, I promise. Will you be alright here without me for a second?”

In response, he lays fully on the floor and closes his eyes. At least she doesn’t have to worry about him wandering off in a delirious haze.

Taking a fortifying breath, she exits through the staff door she utilized earlier and hoofs it over the extensive grounds to the main entrance of the estate. 

When she approaches the front gate, her dad is pacing and muttering to himself. His battered navy blue Crown Vic is parked on the street behind him. When he catches sight of her, he halts and grabs the ornate bars, eyes blazing. Veronica makes sure to stay at least 10 feet from the gate. 

“Veronica. Get over here. We’re going.”

“Daddy, I—”

“Don’t argue. I don’t know what’s going on but this is ridiculous. You’re not staying here with Logan Echolls, I don’t care what he says.”

“He’s sick, Dad. He has the flu and he was supposed to be by himself but—” This is the part she really doesn’t want to explain. “Anyway, I accidentally visited him and now I’ve been exposed—”

“Poor choice of words, Veronica.”

She ignores his little outburst and continues. “And I might not get sick but I need to stay here for two weeks in case I’m a carrier. I guess it’s a really bad strain of the flu and this is the best way to keep people protected.”

“Who’s protecting you?” 

His anger morphs to anguish and she realizes he’s worried about her. 

“I’m gonna be fine. Healthy as a horse, you know that.” She gives him a soft smile. 

“And you know how crazy this all sounds, right?” But her dad sighs in defeat. He’s not going to scale the gate and drag her home, or toss a sleeping bag over the fence and insist on staying.

“I know, Daddy. I’m so sorry. Here’s what I need you to do.” She adopts a businesslike tone, hoping he won’t argue. “Call Logan’s doctor, I’ll text you the number. Then call the school and get my absences excused. Logan’s, too, because Mr. Echolls forgot. I’ll need you to bring me a bunch of clothes, my homework and—”

“Don’t think we’re not talking about the fact that you’re shacking up with a teenage boy.” He shakes his finger at her through the bars. The return of his bantering tone sends relief coursing through her. 

“Can you really call it ‘shacking up’ if he lives in a mansion?” She pretends to ponder. “And it’s Logan. Nothing to worry about.”

“You forget, I’ve met him. I know exactly what to worry about.” His brows draw down in his ‘disapproving dad’ look. 

“Dad, gross. We’re friends.”

“Are you?” Keith’s piercing gaze meets hers. “Because Logan has been a lot of things this past year but I’m not sure I'd call him a friend.”

Veronica flashes back to that moment in the hallway.  _ I know what it’s like _ , she’d said. Logan’s eyes were locked on hers, his hand caressed her arm. She wasn't sure what they were at that point, either. She’s still not sure now. 

She clears her throat, shakes off the memory. “Yes. Friends. And besides, this place has a guest suite bigger than three of our apartments and endless hot water. I’ll be fine!”

“I’m checking in every day, Veronica. Every day.”

“Of course. Take good care of Backup. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Not funny, Veronica.”

“I’m pretty sure it was.”

To avoid the possibility of an emotional scene, she waves at her dad and spins on the heel of her black Doc Marten boot, heading back to the garage. 

Logan still hasn’t moved. She places her hand on his bare shoulder, patting him gently. 

“Come on, tiger. Let’s get you back in bed.”

“I knew you wanted me, Mars,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her hand like a cat. “Thought it might take longer, though.”

“You must be feeling better if you can flirt. Let’s go.”

Grabbing his arm, she tugs. Logan unfolds his long body, still unsteady, and lurches against the wall. 

“Whoa, there.” Wrapping her arm around his waist, she anchors him and helps him through the house back to his bedroom. 

“How long have you been sick, Logan?”

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“No idea. Forever, maybe?”

“Are you hungry? Do you need anything?” Helping ease him onto his bed, Veronica checks his forehead again. 

Yep, still has a fever. 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” he mutters, rolling into his side and curling up. “Order food if you’re hungry.”

Logan’s eyes slide closed and he tucks his hand under his head like a little boy. It’s surprisingly adorable and Veronica can’t resist running her hand over his hair. It’s soft but sweaty. Maybe tomorrow she can encourage him to take a shower. 

She’s amazed that he can fall asleep so quickly but his fever must have wiped him out because he’s already snoring softly. 

What now?

* * *

Veronica orders herself dinner, watches one of the 187 satellite channels available on the Echolls’ big screen TV, and does all the homework that was in her bag. She thinks about going for a swim—even though it’s April, the pool is heated, and there’s always the hot tub. But by herself, it just sounds boring. 

Sighing, she realizes that’s the problem. She’s bored. Maybe she could just go check on Logan, see if he’s awake. It feels weird to hang out in his living room without him, anyway. 

His eyes are closed but maybe he’s just resting. 

“Logan?” she whispers. “Are you awake?”

His lashes flutter open. “Yeah.”

“How ya feeling?”

“Like I have the flu.”

He’s still a weird combination of flushed and pale but he hasn’t had a coughing fit in a while so that’s good. 

“Do you wanna…” 

But she’s not sure what to say. They might be friends again but not the kind who hang out, at least not right now. So much has happened in the year and a half since everything changed. 

Clearing her throat, Veronica tries again. “Do you want anything?”

“Watch a movie with me?”

Relief fills her that he suggested it. “Yeah, okay. Down in the theater room or…?”

Logan winces. “I’m not sure I can handle that. Can we stay in here? Make it a pajama night?”

“You’re already in your pajamas.” Veronica heads to the bookshelf on the far wall that holds Logan’s DVDs, running her hands over the titles. 

“You could put yours on, too.” 

His voice sounds stronger than earlier. Still raspy but louder than a whisper. 

“My dad hasn’t dropped off my stuff yet.” She pulls Austin Powers off the shelf and wiggles it enticingly. “So no pajamas for me.”

Logan gestures at his dresser. “Help yourself. But pick a different movie.”

They settle on The Bourne Supremacy, which is fine with Veronica because, hello, Matt Damon. She changes into Logan’s super soft flannel pajama pants and an oversized Neptune Pirates t-shirt, which her dad harasses her for later when he drops off her suitcase. 

But she doesn’t change into her own clothes, merely deposits her duffel bag on the guest bed across the hall from Logan’s and goes back to finish the movie with him. He paused it for her and must have dozed while she was gone but rouses himself when she enters. 

“All set, Mars?”

“Yep. I have clothes now.”

“Damn. This fantasy is quickly deteriorating.”

His dry humor is so familiar to her, it would be easy to feel like nothing has changed between them. 

“Logan, I…”

Her voice comes out softer than she intended and, fever or not, Logan raises an eyebrow at her tone.

“I’m sorry that you were all alone.” She stares straight at the television, not seeing the movie playing on it. “That sucks.”

He doesn’t say anything, just settles further into his pillows. Fifteen minutes later, he’s asleep. And when he rolls over and plants his head in her lap, she doesn’t shove him away. 

* * *

Over the next few days, Logan’s fever recedes and his coughing fits don’t bother him as much. Veronica’s glad to see the improvements but it comes with a price—he’s ridiculously grumpy. 

“Veronica,” he whines, flopping on the couch. “I’m bored.”

She waves her hand in the direction of the TV. “You could always—”

“If you suggest ‘watch a movie,’ I will scream.” He sits up and stares at her, eyes serious. 

“Okay, how about a game?” she suggests, packing her homework back into her bag. “Monopoly? Or what about—”

“I’m positive there are no board games in this house. Not my parents’ style. But cards, yes.”

“Go grab a deck and I’ll destroy you at poker again.”

“I think they’re all upstairs. Come on.” He motions for her to follow through the living room to the staircase. “And I’m sick. Shouldn’t you let me win because you feel sorry for me?”

“Nice try, Echolls.”

Logan pads through the house and up to his room, then rummages through his desk drawers while Veronica watches from the doorway. 

They've developed an odd but surreal familiarity with each other. She’s stuck with Logan Echolls, her former friend turned mortal enemy turned...reluctant friend again? For two weeks. She’s always known what he likes on pizza and what he looks like in a bathing suit but now she knows what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning and how he likes his Pop Tarts toasted. She’s worn his pajama pants more than her own, on account of the extreme softness. The sheer intimacy of it overwhelms her at times. 

_ Just ignore it, Veronica. _

Extracting a deck of cards, Logan moves to check under his bed but then sits back on his heels. 

“Whoa. I think I stood up too fast.”

She rushes to his side. “If you pass out, I’m just leaving you here. There’s no way I can lift you onto the bed.”

“I’m okay, I just need a moment.” He leans back against his bed. “Bad news, though. All the poker chips must be in the pool house.”

She could go get them, he’s probably fine. But he still looks a little woozy. 

“Eh, I’ll beat you at something else, then.” Sitting cross-legged, Veronica makes herself comfortable on Logan’s bed and pats the spot next to her. “Gin, maybe?”

He gives a fake gasp as he hauls himself onto the bed and sits across from her. “A drinking game? Why, I’d never!”

“You wish. I think you have to be fever-free for a little longer, dude.”

“The only way you’d beat me, Mars, is getting me drunk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She swipes the cards from him and proceeds to shuffle, then deals. Logan lays down a king. Just as she’s about to play her first card, her phone rings, vibrating in her pocket. 

“Oh!” She startles, jumping off the bed to answer it. But when she sees the name on the caller ID, she bites her lip, unsure. Tossing it on the bed, she lets it go to voicemail. 

“Who was it?” 

She should have known Logan is too nosy to mind his own business. 

“Nobody.”

But when it rings again, he grabs it before she can. “Wallace. Your new friend, right? If you don’t answer, he’ll probably keep calling.”

She knows he’s right but...how is she ever going to explain this?

Before she can open her mouth to protest, Logan clicks the green button. “Veronica’s phone.”

She doesn’t think before she acts, tackling him and landing on top when he falls back against the pillows. She wrestles the phone out of his grasp and holds it to her ear, trying not to pant. 

“Hey, Buddy. Sorry about that.”

_ “Veronica? What the hell? Who’s answering your phone and why haven’t you been at school?” _

With a wicked smile, Logan grinds his hips against hers and reminds her exactly where she’s laying. She scrambles off him and points a threatening finger, then places it over her lips. 

“Uh, well, I’m, I’m gonna be out of school for a while.”

_ “Are you okay?”  _ Wallace’s voice rises in pitch and she hurries to reassure him. 

“I’m fine, really. This is gonna sound crazy, but I was exposed to a really serious strain of the flu. Through the course of investigating a case,” she adds, meeting Logan’s eye and praying he doesn’t say anything to give her away. 

He snorts softly but Wallace just replies,  _ “You are so weird sometimes,”  _ and seems to buy it. 

“So anyway, I’m stuck inside with my possible flu germs for the next two weeks. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

_ “You’re the one who gets me in trouble, girl. Take care of yourself.” _

She stares at her cards, refusing to meet Logan’s eye after she hangs up but of course he won’t leave it alone. 

“Investigating a case, huh?”

Veronica just shrugs. “He’s a great guy but he wasn’t there. He doesn’t understand.”

How can she explain to someone who doesn’t know, who only sees them now, that she used to be friends with Logan? She doesn’t know what they are now but she’s sure she can’t put it into words for Wallace. 

“Why did you come over here, anyway? My memories are pretty fuzzy.” 

He doesn’t sound taunting, only curious. But Veronica’s face warms and she’s sure she’s blushing. 

“You didn’t answer your phone. I was worried.”

“My phone! Shit!” 

Diving off the bed, Logan digs in his bedside drawer, flinging out handfuls of condoms, books, and pens. 

“Gross.” Veronica tosses a condom, ‘ribbed for her pleasure’, back at him. 

“Chill, Mars. It’s not like it’s opened.” He holds his silver phone up triumphantly. “I knew I was forgetting something. It’s dead but I should probably charge it.” 

“Is that why you didn’t call me back?”

“I remember the sound really hurt my head so I tossed it in here.” Logan scoops the mess off his bed and shoves it all back in the drawer before plugging his phone into the charger. “Ready to lose, Ronnie?”

Eternally grateful for the subject change, she gifts him with a wide smile. “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

“Logan! Logan, wake up!” Veronica shakes his shoulder, desperate to stop what is clearly a nightmare tormenting him. His screams were so loud, he woke her up across the hall. 

Not like she sleeps all that soundly herself these days anyway. 

Gasping, he sits up, eyes flying open. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” She tries to make her voice soothing, rubbing his back and running her fingers over his hair. “You’re okay, it was just a dream.”

Logan’s stare fixes on hers, clearing as he leaves his nightmare and wakes up. 

“Water?” He croaks, and she hurries to the bathroom to fill a glass for him. 

Placing it in his shaking hands, Veronica scoots next to him on the bed. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Lilly.” His rough voice breaks and he gulps down the water. 

Veronica doesn’t ask for any more details about his dream. She doesn’t want to picture whatever was haunting him. But his breath is still coming too fast and he’s shaking. Clearly, he’s not falling back asleep yet. 

“Hey, Logan, look at me.” He’s going to hyperventilate if he doesn’t calm down. She takes the glass from him and places her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You’re gonna breathe with me. Inhale, one two three four five. Exhale, one two three four five.” 

Logan’s gaze darts wildly, still panting. He’s spiraling. Grabbing one of his hands, she puts it on her sternum. 

“Inhale,” she commands and models, “Exhale.” Repeating herself a few times, Logan’s breathing finally evens out. Then he jerks his hand away from her chest and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

_ That doesn’t really count as feeling me up, right? _

“Sorry.” Logan curls himself into a ball, head down on his knees. 

“It’s okay. You tired?”

He shakes his head no, not looking at her. 

“Me either.” That’s a lie. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah. That’d be...good.”

He uncurls and watches as she turns on his TV. Veronica doesn’t even know what is playing and Logan doesn’t comment, either. Wishing she knew what to say to reassure him, she entwines her fingers with his. He squeezes back. A shiver races down her spine at the simple contact. 

Slowly Logan’s body relaxes deeper into the mattress and he begins to snore softly in his sleep. She’s warm and comfortable, cocooned in Logan’s softest blanket. 

She should go back to her room. Maybe just five more minutes...

* * *

When she wakes hours later, her head pillowed on Logan’s chest, her body automatically stiffens. This is not a normal sleeping arrangement. 

His arm is wrapped around her waist and, oh god, her legs are tangled up with his. She can’t even sneak out of his bed without disturbing him. 

Logan must feel her movement because his arm tightens around her and he mutters something about dinosaurs in his sleep. He doesn’t seem horrified by their proximity; in fact, his grip is so strong she can’t wriggle away. 

With a sigh, Veronica stops fighting it. She’s stuck. She forces her muscles to relax. 

And really, it’s not that bad. Logan is warm and he smells divine—spicy and salty like seawater. His heart beats underneath her ear, and his rhythmic breathing soothes her. So deeply asleep, she doubts he will remember this in the morning. Would it be so wrong to enjoy it? 

Cradled in Logan’s arms, she drifts back into oblivion. 

* * *

“No more cards, Veronica. You can’t afford it.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Logan smirks at her across the space. They’ve finally finished their homework, but unfortunately Logan expects constant entertainment. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s your own wallet you should be worrying about,” she shoots back at him as she shoves her history textbook into her bag and straightens. 

“Come on. Let’s do something fun.” 

His voice is plantative, reminding her of a five year old begging for candy at the grocery store. And she feels like an exasperated mommy, ready to snap. Holding up her hand, she halts his whining. 

“You have to take it easy. I know it’s been a few days, but—”

“I feel fine. I promise to just float. But go put on a suit because we are swimming. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

She could refuse and hide out inside. Or she could just sit poolside in a lounge chair to supervise. 

But swimming sounds fun. And it might shut Logan up for a while, which would be amazing. So when he puts his hands on her shoulders and directs her to the pool house for an extra swimsuit, her protests are half-hearted at best. 

Having swam at Logan’s many times before, Veronica knows where the spare suits and extra towels are kept. Selecting one that probably used to be Trina’s, she wishes it covered a little more. But the fuschia leopard print pattern is cute. 

Logan’s eyes widen when she walks out of the pool house and she flushes. 

_ Would it be hilarious or embarrassing if he fell off that raft right now?  _ She can’t decide. 

Clearing his throat, he waves at the outdoor kitchen area and a pile of inflatable rafts and the awkwardness passes. “Uh, you can grab a drink and a float if you want.” 

Complying, Veronica gets herself settled in the heated water. The spring sun warms her face and she lets her eyes slide closed. Logan is quiet and her mind drifts as she floats, remembering back to one of the last times she was here with Logan, Duncan, and Lilly. 

The boys were splashing in the deep end, dunking each other, and she and Lilly sat on the loungers, just like this. They were gossiping, she doesn’t even remember what they were talking about now. But she remembers how Lilly’s eyes sparkled, how her glossy lips curved up in a delighted smile. 

Some days the ache for Lilly is dull; other times, like now, it’s a sharp pain behind her breastbone she can’t ignore. She’d give anything to be able to change what happened to her best friend. It makes her more determined than ever to find out what happened, but her investigation has stalled out since she’s been stuck with Logan. 

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” He floats close, interrupting her thoughts. 

This is the Logan she tried to forget she knew this past year—the perceptive one. But now she’s never sure if he’s going to use what he sees to hurt her. They’ve forged a truce, though, and his eyes are soft, so she nods. 

“Are you still working on her case?” His voice breaks on the last word but she ignores it. She doesn’t like thinking of Lilly that way either. 

“Yeah. You still mad about it?”

Logan shrugs. “I guess we all have our own ways of dealing.”

“Duncan turned into a zombie and you screwed everything that moved.” At her harsh words, his eyebrows hit his hairline but he doesn’t argue, just lets the silence hang between them for a beat. 

“Did it work?” She asks quietly, not able to meet his gaze. 

“No.” He takes a deep breath. “Does investigating?”

“A little. I guess I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

He barks a laugh but she wasn’t trying to be funny. “You really think you can figure out who killed her when the police can’t?”

“They’re not even trying anymore. And you agree with me that it wasn’t Able?”

“Maybe.”

With that, he floats away. Veronica closes her eyes and tries to focus on the feel of the sun on her skin again but the moment’s gone, much like the carefree girl who gossiped with Lilly long ago. 

* * *

“Wanna get in the hot tub?” Logan exits the pool and shakes his hair at her like a dog, splattering her with cold droplets. 

“You think I won’t retaliate and dunk you in there?” Veronica hops off her raft and sends him a wicked grin. 

He ambles over to the hot tub, built into the patio rock wall. “I’m delicate, remember?”

“Actually, you should probably be careful, not get too hot.” She ignores Logan’s eyes on the tiny triangles of her bathing suit top as she steps out of the pool. She can’t blame him; it does cling a great deal more than her normal clothing. 

“Veronica,” he teases, “I’m already too hot to handle, or haven’t you heard?”

She rolls her eyes and gently shoves him out of her path as she climbs into the water and relaxes, letting its warmth cover her. His smoldering eyes raking over her body or discussions of Lilly’s murder aren’t territory that she knows how to handle with Logan but this—quips and banter—is more her speed. 

It’s kinda nice when they just sit quietly, too. Comfortable. Having Logan as her friend is both familiar and terrifying but she’s starting to think they could even stay friends once they go back to school. They wouldn’t make a big deal about it, of course, but  _ detent _ is a welcome development. 

* * *

“Logan, I can’t eat another take out meal,” Veronica protests, arms crossed over her belly. She can hear the petulant whine in her own voice but she can’t help it. Being cooped up inside, even at the Echolls’ mansion, is driving her crazy. 

“Words I never thought I’d hear you say.” Logan leans into her space and taps her nose, earning a swat. She’s not in the mood. 

“Seriously,” she groans. “I just need regular food.”

Logan stares at her. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Something that doesn’t come in a styrofoam container or paper bag.” 

“Maybe Mrs. Navarro could—”

“No.” She spins away from Logan and throws open the door to the walk-in pantry. It’s approximately the same size as her living room. “We can throw something together. If you think your dad would be okay with that?”

Veronica’s never sure how to read Aaron Echolls. Obviously his charming persona for the cameras is an exaggeration but that’s to be expected. The predatory gleam his eyes take on sometimes, though, makes her cautious. Anxiety knots her stomach when she imagines how uncomfortable she’d be if he were home. Best not to dwell on it. 

Logan barks a sarcastic laugh. “As if he’d care. I could starve and he wouldn’t notice. Have at it, Mars.”

He gestures expansively at the pantry and she steps inside, flips on the light. Boxes of pasta, canned vegetables, baking supplies, and spice jars stare back at her from neatly organized shelves. 

“This is really Mrs. Narvarro’s domain but she won’t mind, either.”

“Hmm.” After surveying the pantry, Veronica throws open the stainless steel French door refrigerator, making mental calculations. The weight of Logan’s amused gaze tracks her but he keeps silent. 

“Okay.” She grabs bacon, the carton of eggs, and a block of Parmesan from the fridge. 

“Breakfast for dinner?” he guesses. 

“Nope. Can you get a box of pasta out of the pantry? Spaghetti please. And maybe…” Veronica trails off, following Logan into the storage room. She scans the spices, spotting the tall pepper grinder on the top shelf. 

Pushing up on her tiptoes, she reaches for it but only succeeds in shoving it farther back. Damnit. 

“Here ya go.” Logan’s body is warm behind her as he easily retrieves the pepper. Spinning, her mouth goes dry at their proximity. If she were a few inches taller, if he inclined his head a little, they’d be kissing. 

_ Whoa, girl. Where did that come from?  _

She shakes her head as if to dislodge the rogue thought. Clearly, she needs to get out of this quarantine if she’s starting to think about kissing Logan. 

But much like pink elephants, telling herself not to think about kissing Logan only leads to thinking about it more. 

Lilly hadn’t been shy, often sharing personal details of her relationship with Logan; in fact, she seemed to revel in trying to shock Veronica with intimate stories. So Veronica has it on good authority that Logan is an excellent kisser. She stares at his soft lips—

“Veronica? Uh, are you okay?”

Her cheeks heat and she’s sure she’s blushing. 

“Yeah.” Swiping the ingredients in his arms, she brushes past him and back into the kitchen. 

“So.” Taking a deep breath, she tries to forget that weird moment by concentrating on her task. “We have all the supplies to make Spaghetti Carbonara. How’s that sound?” 

“Cool.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter but she had caught a gleam in his eyes before he glanced away. 

“Grab a pot and boil water, then.”

“Bossy, bossy.” 

But he sends her a wink and finds a large stainless steel stock pot so she lets it go. After searching through the cabinets, Veronica spots a skillet and warms it on the cooktop while Logan fills his pot with water, then hops on the counter to watch her. 

“Don’t burn your butt,” she warns. Grabbing a chef’s knife from the butcher block, she admires how exotic and sharp the Japanese knife is. Much nicer than hers at home. 

“Only the best for the Echolls,” she snarks, smiling but impressed. “Cutting board?” 

Rummaging through a lower cabinet, Logan finds a bamboo board and proceeds to watch as she expertly slices the entire pound of bacon crosswise into small one-inch pieces. Once the skillet’s hot, Veronica tumbles the bacon pieces in; the satisfying sizzle and smoky fragrance makes her mouth water. This was definitely a good idea. 

Logan scoots a few more inches away from the stovetop, twirling a stray piece of spaghetti between his long fingers and humming under his breath until the water boils and she dumps the spaghetti into the pot along with a generous dousing of salt. She then stirs the sizzling bacon to ensure it crisps evenly. 

The silence between them is usually comfortable but tonight, it makes her fidgety. She refocuses and proceeds to crack two eggs into a bowl, beating them with a pinch of salt and a grind of pepper. She doesn’t have to look up to feel Logan’s eyes on her, intently watching.

_ It’s just Logan. No big deal.  _

Sure, sometimes it feels like there’s something more between them but that’s because he’s a flirty teenage boy. It’s how she’s always felt with Logan. It’s probably just amplified without Duncan and Lilly to round out their foursome. 

“So—”

“Hey—”

They both speak at the same time, then halt. Maybe he feels the need to fill the quiet, too. 

“You first,” she insists. “And where’s your cheese grater?”

Logan hops off the counter and opens a drawer. “I was just going to ask how you learned to make this.”

“My mom taught me. I think my Grandma Mars taught her when my parents got married. Family recipe.”

Veronica is glad his back is to her as he opens another drawer. 

“So have you heard from her at all? Or is she just...gone?”

He turns and tries to hand her a cheese grater but she gestures wordlessly at the block of Parmesan on the counter. Logan rolls his eyes and huffs but finds a bowl and begins the task. 

“I found her, actually.” Veronica is surprised when the words pop out of her mouth. Logan might torment her with them. Or he might understand. 

She clears her throat. “I found her. And I hope she’ll be back home soon. ”

He doesn’t say anything as he starts to grate the cheese and she wishes he had disagreed or made fun of her so she could argue and yell at him. His lack of commentary is worse. She wants to defend her decision, to explain everything she did and why. How everything will be fine now. 

But Logan merely holds out his bowl of cheese. “Is this okay?” he asks, and now she wants to yell at him for not saying anything. She takes her frustration out on the bacon, swiping the spatula through it harder than necessary. 

“It’s fine.”

Fishing a long pasta strand out with a fork, she takes a bite. Perfectly al dente. 

“Colander?”

“What’s that?”

“Never mind.”

Using the lid instead, Veronica drains the water and puts the spaghetti into the skillet with the bacon, then adds her egg mixture and gently tosses the pasta, coating it. Once the eggs ‘cook’ on the hot noodles and bacon, she grinds a generous amount of fresh pepper on top and tosses it again. The familiar routine of cooking and the promise of comfort food is enough to help her regain her equilibrium. 

“Ta da!” Doing an elaborate Vanna White motion, she waves at the pan. “All done.”

Logan hands her two plates the size of hubcaps and she dishes each of them a generous serving, then adds more freshly ground black pepper and tops it with the grated parmesan. He eyes the massive glass table in the breakfast “nook” between the kitchen and the living room. In Veronica’s mind, that word doesn’t come close to describing the glass-walled enclosure that overlooks the pool. It’s too elegant to be a nook.

Before Logan can suggest they eat there, she sets the plates on the kitchen counter where they’ve been eating take out all week—when they’ve not eaten on the couch in front of the TV. By this point, she’s comfortable in Logan’s house but not fancy-glass-topped-table-comfortable. Even if it isn’t the formal dining room. 

Grabbing the bowl of parmesan he grated, she places it between them. “Add more cheese if you’d like.”

“Of course I will. Hey, do you want something to drink with this? I could make a cocktail or raid the wine cellar,” Logan offers, quirking a brow as he leans against the island. 

_ Drinking with Logan? That sounds like a recipe for disaster.  _

“Nah. I’ll just have a Skist.”

Logan shrugs and retrieves two sodas from the fridge. “I’m not sure this pairs as well as a Pinot.”

“I don’t know.” Veronica pops the tab and takes a sip. “It’s pretty good.” 

Logan laughs at her, then sprinkles extra cheese on top of his pasta and takes a bite. She waits for the verdict.

“Oh, wow,” he mumbles, mouth full. “This is amazing.”

He proceeds to eat every bit of food on his plate plus two more helpings. 

_ I guess he likes it. _ Veronica can’t keep the smile off her face. 

And she has two more helpings, too. Because Logan is right, it is delicious. 

After dinner, Logan offers to clean up and she lets him, watching as he loads the dishwasher. She’s surprised he knows how. 

Then he sighs and flops down on the couch. “I’m bored.”

“We just ate! How can you be bored all ready?”

“I miss surfing. And seeing the outside world.”

“We could—” 

“Nope. Don’t say swim.”

“But you just said you missed surfing.”

“The pool isn’t the same. I’m sick of TV. Play a game with me,” he begs. 

Veronica glances at the deck of cards they’ve left sitting on the mantle. “Another round of poker? I don’t—”

“Not that kind of game.” The wicked glint in Logan’s eye sends a jolt straight to her belly that she doesn't want to examine. “A drinking game.”

“No way,” she protests as he hops up and skips over to the pantry. 

He emerges, waggling a champagne bottle at her. “Come on. We’ll play I’ve Never.”

“But it’s—”

“For Lilly.”

How dare he bring Lilly up for such an irreverent reason? Her blood races through her veins and her skin feels hot as her temper flares. She opens her mouth to yell at him. 

“You know she’d play if she were here. Don’t be chicken,” Logan taunts, and her anger lights her competitive streak, morphs into stubbornness.

“Yeah, okay. But I’m not sharing the bottle with you and your weird flu germs. Grab glasses.”

Snagging two champagne flutes off the top shelf in the cabinet, he heads through the living room towards the stairs. 

“Where are you going?”

“Upstairs. That way when you pass out, I won’t have to carry your ass as far.” He winks and she can’t think of a reason to protest. But she does add a beleaguered sigh, for effect. Letting Logan think he’s in charge is not a habit to cultivate. 

She settles cross legged on Logan’s tan bedspread and observes as he pops open the champagne and pours the bubbly liquid. Handing her a flute, he clinks their glasses together.

“Cheers, Mars. May the best man win.”

“Person,” she corrects, glaring over the rim of the glass. Knowing Logan, he only said it to bother her but she’d hate to disappoint. 

“I’ll even let you go first.” He sits down across from her, eyes twinkling with mischief. It’s the happiest she’s seen him in a while and she’s hit with a rush of affection low in her belly. 

_ He’s my friend and I’m glad he’s not sick anymore. That’s all. _

Clearing her throat, Veronica taps her chin and pretends to think. “Hmm. What to pick, what to pick? How about...I’ve never let the air out of someone’s tires.”

He smirks and sips. “I’ve never changed a tire.”

The champagne bubbles tickle her nose as she takes a drink. It’s cool and delicious.

“I’ve never shoplifted.”

“Me either,” he volleys back. “Drink. I’ve never kissed Duncan.”

She takes two gulps. “I’ve never kissed Caitlin Ford.”

Making a face, Logan drinks. “It was nothing to write home about.”

“Then why did you do it?” Veronica’s not sure why she asks him, not sure he will answer. Tossing his head back, he drains his champagne flute and then stares at her. 

“I was bored, lonely, and wanted someone who wouldn’t actually expect much.”

Gulping her champagne to cover her surprise that he was so honest with her, she closes her eyes and lets the liquid slide down her throat.

“Why did you go out with Troy?” 

She probably owes him the truth after his honesty but she’s not sure what to say. 

“Because it was time,” she finally answers quietly. “It’s your turn.”

“I’ve never done the swim team.”

“That makes two of us. You started that rumor so you should have to drink twice.”

“I didn’t start it.” Logan grabs the long neck of the bottle off his nightstand and refills their glasses. “Dick did.”

“Did you think it was true?” Veronica’s not sure why his answer matters but it does.  _ Did he ever really know me at all? _

“No.” He downs the entire glass again. “But you—you changed.”

“So did you.” She clears her throat, ready to switch subjects. “I’ve never punched out my friend’s headlights.”

She gives him a smug smile but he wags his finger at her. “We weren’t friends at the time.”

“That’s a technicality.” Veronica waves a hand in the air. “Now drink.”

After filing his flute again, he does. “You’re lagging behind, Mars. I need to come up with a good one. Ah-ha! I’ve never planted a bong in anyone’s locker and gotten them arrested.”

“You were merely questioned.” But she takes a hearty sip, draining half her glass. The bubbles are starting to give her a pleasant buzz. This is better than she expected.

“I knew it was you.”

“Of course,” Veronica acknowledges, inclining her head. “That was half the fun of it. I’ve never cheated on a test.”

Logan takes a sip, muttering darkly, “I still say that wasn’t cheating. We weren’t talking about the test.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes glinting again and she can’t tell if he’s feeling mischievous or mean. “I’ve never kissed Weevil.”

“Me either! I thought we established that my bad reputation was grossly exaggerated.”

“I don’t give a damn about your bad reputation.” He sips his champagne.

“I knew you’d say that.”

“Naturally. How many people have you kissed, Veronica Mars?” His gaze is speculative, curious, and strangely...heated. She doesn’t know what to make of that. 

_ Deflect, Veronica. It’s your specialty.  _

Adopting a fake southern accent, she lays it on thick. “I do declare! A lady doesn't kiss and tell.”

Dropping the accent, she pokes him in the side, careful not to spill her drink. “We’re playing I’ve Never, not Truth or Dare. And it’s my turn. I’ve never—”

“We’re switching to Truth or Dare, then.” He cuts her off, persistent like a dog with a bone. “How many people have you kissed?”

“Dare.” 

His eyes widen. When they used to play with Duncan and Lilly, she was known for picking Truth. Tossing her hair, she gives him a spiteful grin and takes a dainty sip. 

“Fine.” Logan polishes off the rest of his champagne, sets the glass on his bedside table. “Kiss me.”

Spitting out the mouthful of champagne, she coughs and sputters, wiping the liquid off her chin. “Kiss you? You can’t be serious.”

But that was clearly the wrong thing to say; she should have known better. Pushing Logan only makes him double down harder. 

“You picked Dare, Mars.” He shrugs, unrepentant, and smiles at her. The way his mouth turns up at the corners reminds her of the Grinch’s evil grin. 

Draining her champagne in one gulp, she places her empty glass next to his. She could probably weasel out of this, claim it’s unfair or out of line and just answer his damn question but she’s not the same girl she once was. She’s not backing down. And frankly, she’s curious.

Crawling over to him on the bed, exuding confidence, she stalks him as if he were her prey. But Logan merely waggles his eyebrows at her and makes kissy noises, puckering up. 

She could give him a silly, sloppy, exaggerated mess of a kiss. Or she could kiss the hell out of him. It’s an easy choice. 

Holding his gaze, she moves in for the kill. Logan’s Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, then drops the posturing. The air between them shifts, turns electric. 

Veronica climbs into his lap and pushes him down on his back, then brushes her lips against his. His pilant mouth opens and after a moment, she slips her tongue inside to twine around his. 

Oh. 

_ Oh _ . 

She’s been kissed before (by four people, thank you very much) but never like this. Those experiences were nice. Pleasant. Enjoyable. Fun. But this. If kissing Duncan was like striking a match and lighting a candle, kissing Logan is setting a forest on fire. 

Every nerve ending in her body lights up with pleasure and it zips along her spine. She feels it from her scalp to her toes. Her mouth opens further in surprise at the sheer sensation and Logan doesn’t waste the opportunity. 

Taking over the kiss, he threads his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck and shifts up, pressing closer. His tongue sweeps through her mouth, warm and teasing as he explores, sending a new wave of sparks through her veins. He could devour her, swallow her whole and it feels so amazing, she’d let him. 

His other hand moves to her hip, rubbing small circles over her flesh and oh, god. She had no idea that her hipbone was so sensitive. It makes her want to straddle him, to get as close as possible. 

Gripping his shoulders, her fingers dig into his firm muscles. Flush against him, she feels everything. It’s pretty clear he’s enjoying the experience. 

Her mind starts catching up to her body and she realizes she’s kissing Logan Echolls. Beyond that, she likes it. A lot. It’s the best kiss she’s ever had. 

Because it’s more than a kiss. It’s Logan. He knows her better than anyone. Knows who she was and who she is now. And she wants to keep kissing him forever. 

That thought causes her to pull up short, fingers pressed to her buzzing lips. Logan looks just as rocked by the revelation as she feels. 

“I, I have to go.” Veronica backs off his bed, adrenaline and lust coursing through her body. Stumbling, she races for the door and flees to her room across the hall. 

* * *

“Veronica? What are you doing up so early?” Logan, clad only in plaid pajama pants, gestures at the bright rising sun warming her as she floats in the pool. 

“Oh, sorry.”

_ I’ve been up all night, thinking about your lips on mine and I couldn’t stand pacing in the guest room any longer _ , is what she doesn’t say. 

_ Trying to cool off, to make my skin stop wanting to feel your hands on me again _ , is also rejected. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” is what she mumbles instead. 

Stripping off his pants, he dives in with boxers for a suit and swims the length of the pool, coming up for air at the other end. She watches his back muscles ripple and pull as he swims laps. The rhythm is hypnotic and she closes her eyes against the beauty of his lean body. 

“Hey.” Logan surfaces next to her, sprinkling her with water droplets. It hurts to look at him, not because of the sun but the intimacy between them. 

It was just...an excess of hormones. Spilling over from being cooped up together for so long. Nothing more. 

“Sorry about last night.” She swallows, nodding. But Logan’s still talking. “I—but can I just ask, how many people have you kissed? And where do I rank among them?”

His smirk melts away her anxiety and she remembers, he’s her friend. Yeah, she wants to make out with him again, but she’s not going to let herself go there. Too dangerous. She won’t be his friend with benefits and there’s no way Logan would be angling for anything else. But she can be his friend. 

Veronica slides off the raft, cool water tickling her stomach, and takes a deep breath before launching herself through the water at his ankles, dunking him under the water.

Logan comes up sputtering, then grabs her and tosses her in the deep end as she squeals. 

“So that’s still a no?” He teases when she pops back out of the water. 

“What about me? Where do I rank?”

Eyes darkening, he moves closer to her. Veronica fights the urge to swim away. His thumbs graze her hips under the water and goosebumps break out along her arms. 

“Do I sound like a suck up if I say number one?” His husky voice hits her lower belly, a thread of desire flares between her legs. 

“Yes.”

Logan clears his throat. “Will you go out with me?”

Her mouth drops open. That’s unexpected. 

“What? Everyone knows we hate each other.” 

“Eh. Hating. Dating. Maybe it’s the same thing for us.” 

Maybe it is. She hasn’t stopped thinking about Logan for months, whether it’s getting revenge on him for a prank or getting his lips on hers again. 

“What if I say yes?”

“Then we go out. Once we can leave the house. See, you’ve probably forgotten but there’s these things called cars and you can use them to go restaurants or—”

Pushing up on her toes, she brushes her lips across his just to shut him up. It proves to be effective but she also loses the thread of their conversation for quite some time. 

Finally, Veronica pulls away, panting. “What about everybody at school?”

“Screw ‘em. Nobody cared enough to find me this week.” He shrugs and pulls back, gaze intent. “Nobody but you.”

She doesn’t know how he does that, goes from teasing to intense in a breath. Her heart thuds in her chest, so loud he can probably hear it, and she runs her fingers over his biceps. 

“Screw ‘em? Haven’t you heard? That’s my new motto.” 

But she winks to take the sting out of her words and Logan chuckles. 

“So is that a yes?”

Agreeing to go out with Logan sounds crazy. But also, perfectly right. 

_ So what’ll it be, Veronica? _

It’s not a safe bet but Veronica has played enough poker to learn that sometimes a little risk leads to a big win. His eyes twinkle at her, making her heart lurch, not to mention other parts of her anatomy. 

“I think you’re worth the gamble.”

As Logan’s lips connect with hers again, Veronica knows they still have a lot to figure out. But she relaxes into his kiss, lets herself enjoy the sensations running through her body. Getting to this point is pretty miraculous. Maybe she should thank Trinia for giving him that weird flu. She can think of worse ways to spend another week.    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Authentic Italian recipe for Spaghetti Carbonara courtesy of Aurora2020. Thanks for fixing all my cooking faux pas! It’s a good thing Veronica is better in the kitchen than I am. Any errors in it at this point are on me. 


End file.
